


burning bright

by londer



Category: A Crown of Candy - Fandom, Dimension 20
Genre: Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Canon Compliant, Dairy Queen, Enemies to friends with Benefits, F/F, Getting Together, Pirates, Pre-Canon, being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londer/pseuds/londer
Summary: The door clicks shut politely behind her, and she turns at the noise and finally spots the witch-pirate, sitting primly on a small wooden chair perusing a very large moldy-looking book. She looks up and smiles at Annabelle and not for the first time Annabelle is struck by her visible strength and good looks."You came," she says. Her voice is different here, sweeter and calmer than it typically is when the two are locked in combat. "Captain Annabelle Cheddar. So lovely to finally meet you."
Relationships: Annabelle Cheddar/Saccharina Frostwhip
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	burning bright

**Author's Note:**

> their ship name is _dairy queen_ of course i had to do this

The island is small but well positioned along the Curded Current, a perfect little stopping point for traders in their swift ships. There is an inn in the heart of the harbor-town, narrow and stone and wrapped in trailing ivy. Annabelle has never been to this part of Wheyton, although her ships have moored here many times before now. There is a piece of parchment in her pocket that shimmers oddly when anyone else looks at it, with this inn's address and today's date written on it in tidy, tiny cursive. 

When she was a princess and a child, they stayed in the mayor's house. When she made stopovers as a naval captain, she took rooms for her and all her crew in one of the finer inns nearer to the port. This inn is deep in cramped streets, with white cut shops rising alongside it. The rain splatters the cobblestones slick beneath her boots, a new torrent after days of rain.

She steels her shoulders, smooths the line of her jacket, and enters. The witch-pirate had slipped her note in her pocket during their last encounter. Annabelle had had her pinned to the rail of the deck of the  _ Colby _ , swords crossed and pressed close between their faces. Her rival had seemed utterly unconcerned and had smiled blithely up at Annabelle while her free hand had deliberately tucked the note into Annabelle's pocket with a wink. She had then surged with power, knocking Annabelle backwards before flipping backwards off the edge of the ship and into the mist her magics had drawn about their vessels. 

There's no way of knowing what awaits her inside. It's a fool's errand and if Annabelle gets herself killed tonight she will have deserved it for not taking any precautions. One hand rests on the hilt of her blade, the other squeezes at the strap of her bag slung over her shoulder. A short man is sitting on a tall stool behind the inn's small counter, and the room is warm and hazy with candlesmoke.

"Room for Frostwhip," Annabelle says to him. She doesn't drop her hood, but it's evening and raining so perhaps it will not read too suspiciously in the bright and cheery little lobby. He nods and flips through his ledger briefly before handing her a small key attached to a very large wooden fish with  _ 300 _ carved into the side.

"Stairs through there, miss. Will ye be looking for some dinner to be brought up?" 

"Yes, thank you," she says, and slips him a few coppers for his trouble. He nods appreciatively and she ducks through the door and up the rickety spiraling stairs to the third floor. 

There's only one door on the third floor, and she stills outside of it, unsure if she should knock or just enter. Knocking seems the polite thing, but the door swings open as she's raising her knuckles to rap at it. There's nobody standing there, but the room inside is brightly lit with candles under the sloped ceilings where the roof tapers above them, and Annabelle can hear the rain washing over the tiles outside even from in here. From her vantage point in the hall outside she can see a big soft-looking bed, and that, coupled with a lack of obvious threats, is enough to have her entering the room. She hasn't slept on a real mattress in weeks and her back aches just looking at the blankets.

The door clicks shut politely behind her, and she turns at the noise and finally spots the witch-pirate, sitting primly on a small wooden chair perusing a very large moldy-looking book. She looks up and smiles at Annabelle and not for the first time Annabelle is struck by her visible strength and good looks. 

"You came," she says. Her voice is different here, sweeter and calmer than it typically is when the two are locked in combat. "Captain Annabelle Cheddar. So lovely to finally meet you." 

"Who are you?" Annabelle asks before she can stop herself or draw upon years of diplomatic training. "I only mean - we've met before, but I never learned your name." 

"My name?" She says, standing and approaching, close but perhaps not close enough. She's just a few inches shorter than Annabelle and her hair sweeps across her forehead and face in a tumble of brown and pink waves. "Saccharina Frostwhip." She offers a hand and Annabelle shakes it on pure instinct. 

"Saccharina," it rolls pleasantly through her mouth. "And why've you asked me here?"

Saccharina's head tilts and the candlelight catches in the brown of her eyes and on the peaks of her green cheekbones. "You intrigue me," she says finally. "You were royalty, once. I wonder what that's like." 

"Boring," Annabelle says honestly. 

Saccharina's mouth twists a little and she moves away from Annabelle to sit on the edge of the bed. She's not in her usual regalia, but a simple white shirt and brown trousers, and it makes her look if not smaller, then perhaps a bit more mortal. "I called you here because I wanted to -" 

There's a knock at the door, and suddenly Saccharina's large wooden spoon is in her hand and she's on her feet again in a fighting stance. 

"I ordered dinner," Annabelle says, and answers the door. Interesting. She's seen Saccharina call down lightning and bend storms to her will before, yet she flinches at an unexpected visitor? Curious. She accepts a platter of stew and bread from a serving girl and firmly locks the door behind her. There's no table, so she goes and sits on the bed with her meal, dropping her rain-soaked jacket onto the end of one of the posts. The bed is as soft as it looks, and the soreness in her muscles has not felt so far away in months. 

Saccharina sits down again, her staff propped against a wall, and takes one of the slices of thick white bread. Annabelle lets herself eat with a gusto because it's real food, not rations, and because a full mouth will buy her replies time. 

"As I was saying," Saccharina continues. Her eyes are firm and trace over Annabelle's face. "I've seen the way you look at me, Cheddar. And nobody is that obsessed with honorable duels as to allow me to escape on technicalities this many times." Annabelle's chewing slows a little. "I think we could be...mutually beneficial to one another." 

The stew is very thick in her throat and she wishes for some water. "I am a Captain in the royal navy of the Dairy Isles. What have I to gain from consorting with a heretic and a pirate?"

"If you had nothing to gain, why did you come?" Saccharina counters, and Annabelle's mouth is full of food once more. "Good to know you don't deny the way you look at me. Really, Annabelle, it's nearly indecent." She bristles a little, guilty, at that and fixes Saccharina with a look. Saccharina simply laughs and drags her finger around the edge of the stew and sucks some of it off her finger, looking smug.

Her head and heart churn, and she stuffs more food in her mouth instead of saying anything. She's a sworn member of the royal navy, and Saccharina's pirate crew...almost never hurts anyone. In fact, they're rather bad at being pirates except for how they're quite difficult to catch. Even if she could bring them all in to the courts, there's been hardly any crimes committed and even less evidence. Whatever her crew is after, it's not the possessions of traders or raiding coastal hamlets. 

Annabelle knows how she looks at Saccharina, has spent long nights agonizing over it alone in her captain's quarters. She's beautiful, yes, but also strong and powerful and quick-witted when they duel with words over the clash of their steel. There is an awful lot of ocean, and yet they keep finding each other. Maybe it's fate, maybe it's intentional. Maybe it's intentional on both their parts. 

Saccharina's gaze has yet to leave Annabelle's face as she swallows her last bite and moves the platter off the bed and onto the floor. "And what, exactly, would you consider to be a mutually beneficial exchange?" She lets her voice dip a little low in her chest. 

Saccharina's smile widens almost predatorily. "Well. I'd very much like to kiss you, for a start." They're both leaning into the space that was once separating them. One of Saccharina's hands comes up to caress over Annabelle's face, knuckles against her cheek and then tucking a lock of her hair back behind an ear. It sparks in her stomach to tilt her head into the touch, and Saccharina's eyes lid with pleasure as her thumb traces over the shell of Annabelle's ear. 

Their bodies are still sitting a meter apart, but their faces are much closer together now. Annabelle is nothing if not a woman of action, so in a single swift motion she shifts herself to close the distance. Saccharina's hand slips to cup the back of her neck into the kiss and they shuffle together a bit to arrange themselves. Saccharina sits on the edge of the bed and Annabelle kneels in her lap over her and thanks god for her thighs' ability to hold her here as long as she pleases because there are no words for kissing Saccharina. She's the tides, she's a storm, she's safe harbor, she is every duel they have fought on the decks of their ships and she is every time Annabelle's heart has skipped upon seeing her flag flying on the horizon and her lips are firmly moving against Annabelle's. 

She stays the night. She'd stay there for days, if not for her crew. The first mate will raise the Hungry One himself if she's not back for noontide muster today. So Annabelle gently disentangles herself from Saccharina's sleeping arms. Her skin is chill with sleep and her hair falls across the pillow and the morning light from the first sunny day in weeks of storm season fills their room with a dusty yellow glow. 

Annabelle dresses slowly, gives herself time to admire the sleep-soft curves of Saccharina, but she brought only her sailing garb and her back is packed and slung over her shoulder far quicker than she'd like. She sits on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots and her weight settling disturbs Saccharina, who rolls over and curls against her, arms clinging like a limpet even as she's still asleep. Annabelle gives herself a moment to run her hand over the curve of Saccharina's jaw before extricating herself once more and tucking the blankets back around her. Saccharina makes a sad little noise in her throat and tries to pull her down into the mess of sheets and blankets once more, but Annabelle steps out of her reach and Saccharina's arms flop to the mattress empty. 

"I must be off," she says, quiet because there's a sleepy spell over the room she's loathe to break. There's a lot more she'd perhaps like to say but can't quite just now, so she settles for pressing one final kiss to that full lower lip before slipping out of the room with her things. She nods to the man at the counter as she exits the inn and begins to make her way back to the harbor. Annabelle looks back, just once, at the swinging sign of the  _ Swan's Little Parade _ inn, but the window at the top of the house where their room was is empty. It doesn't hurt, because that would be absurd, so she shoulders her back and continues on her way. 

They set sail with the afternoon tide and Annabelle's not  _ sulking _ , but she leaves the course-charting to others and retires early to her quarters. There's a folded piece of paper on her pillow and she snatches it up immediately and unfolds the message. 

_ My dear -  _

_ Highbright the fifth, same place? (Although I expect we'll be seeing one another much sooner than that on the seas.) _

_ Xx - Saccharina _

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here!](https://myclericalromance.tumblr.com)  
> (also this is only complete For Now i might add a second chapter or a sequel if i'm vibing)


End file.
